


godling, to you i pray

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: God!Cas, M/M, Mythology!AU, Soulless!Sam, godling!cas, shapeshifter!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean makes a deal with a god to save his brother's life. He knows there will be consequences, but he has no idea just what they'll be...





	godling, to you i pray

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another tumblr oneshot that turned into a series and now it's long enough (and finished!) so it's getting added to ao3 :) I've gone through and edited most of it, plus added an epilogue!
> 
> If you'd like to read my tumblr ficlets, visit me [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com/). I post new ones pretty much daily (assuming I have the time).
> 
> If you didn't catch the series on tumblr and are worried about the MCD warning, I can assure you that it's only temporary and will be resolved before the end of the story.

Dean huddles in the temple’s opening. There’s little light inside, only what daylight trickled in and what a few candles provide. All his instincts scream at him to leave. The air cackles with some unknown danger, some presence that’s truly unsettling.    
  
_ You’re doing this for Sam, _ he reminds himself.  _ You’re doing this to save your brother. _

 

Casting his fears aside, Dean steps into the temple.   
  
He’s been to some of the larger ones in the big cities along the coast. Those are all made of marble and truly grand, towering over not just those who visited them but even the other buildings nearby. They’re meant to be imposing, he supposes, since they’re homes for the gods.    
  
All those temples had turned him away. This one, dark and abandoned, is his last resort.  Dean isn’t even sure what god this temple is dedicated to since all the markings on the outside are in a script he can’t read. That should be enough to make him turn away, but after so long without anything to show for his efforts, Dean’s desperate.   
  
Unlike all the temples to the major gods, this one is small. Puny, even. It is, however, clean and well-maintained, but still showing signs of age. It has no giant statue of a god waiting for guests to pay homage. Instead there’s a pallet in the center of a ring of candles and a lonely looking boy.    
  
“You seek the help of the gods,” the boy says as Dean takes a seat across from him, well outside the candles. Even if the boy should reach for him, he would fall short. Dean can see the sigils on the ground keeping the boy trapped and is no fool; he will be cautious. “What is it you ask for?”   
  
“My brother, Sammy, he’s sick. We’ve tried everything, but the healers say there’s nothing more they can do. It would take a miracle to save him…”   
  
The boy stands, and Dean’s startled to see how tall he is. As he stepped closer, Dean realizes he’s older than he’d first thought, surely within a few years of Dean’s twenty. The young man comes to the very edge of the sigils and stares down at Dean.   
  
“Miracles I can help with.” His blue eyes glow faintly and Dean shivers. “But they are costly.”   
  
“I have gold,” Dean offers. He moves to grab the pouch secured to his belt, but the young man raises his hand.   
  
“Gold has no value here.”   
  
“Then what? A life for a life? Because if that’s it, you can have mine. Take it, for what little it’s worth.”   
  
The man tsks and shakes his head. “That would be too easy and would gain me nothing. I will help you with your brother, but you will have to free me from this place.” He gestures to the markings on the ground.   
  
“… That’s it?” Dean frownS in confusion. “Are you going to… are you going to hurt people if I let you go?”   
  
He shrugs. “Perhaps, but that’s no concern of yours. Your brother will be alive. He’ll be healthy and stronger than he ever was. He’ll live a long life, thanks to you. All you have to do is let me out. Erase the sigils binding me, and I’ll follow you back to your village.”   
  
Dean stands up and moves to stand face to face with the man. It’s dangerous, but he feels himself giving in to the strange demands. “Who are you?”   
  
“Castiel.”   
  
“What are you?”   
  
Again, he shrugs. “Someone who can help you. Let me out.”   
  
“… What will force you to keep your word if I do?”   
  
“We seal the deal with a kiss. It’s old magic, I’m sure even you’ve heard of it, but it will bind us together until we’ve both fulfilled our ends. I won’t be able to leave your side until I’ve saved your brother. Which I will.”   
  
“… But other people might get hurt?”   
  
Castiel rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. “Maybe. We’ve been over this. Quit stalling, and either let me out or don’t. You might be pretty, but if you won’t make a deal you’re useless to me.”   
  
“Yeah, okay… Let’s do this.”    
  
Dean leans forward and Castiel does the same. Dean has heard of this type of deal making, the type of thing witches did at crossroads in the dead of night, and here he is, doing the same. All he’d expected was a quick brush of their lips, but as soon as the kiss startS, Dean gasps and is drawn in.   
  
Kissing Castiel is like kissing a tornado; he can feel all the raw power contained by the vessel before him. Whatever Castiel is, there was no way this is his true form. Dean does’t even know how the body in front of him can contain something like that without wasting away or flying to pieces, but here Castiel is, kissing him.   
  
As they pull away, Dean thinks he can feel a pull in his gut tying him to Castiel and vice versa. He’s dazed for a couple minutes, swaying on his feet and wondering just what he’d gotten himself into.   
  
“That was… more pleasurable than I thought it would be.” Castiel smiles at him with too much teeth. “I think we’ll have fun together.” He points at the markings painted onto the ground. “Let me out.”   
  
No sooner has Dean rubbed out the nearest markings than Castiel disappears. His robes drop to the ground and Dean instantly thinks he’s been cheated.   
  
Then a black snake with glowing blue eyes slithers out from under the cloak. Dean yelps as it slides up his leg and torso before curling around his shoulders and neck. The snake grips him securely, though not so tight that Dean feels suffocated or constrained.    
  
_ Take me to your brother, Dean _ , the snake whispered in his ear.  _ I have oh so many plans for when I’m done my end of the deal… _   
  
Resigning himself to whatever might come next, Dean swallows and nods.    
  
“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

\- - - -

 

It’s a two day trip back to Dean’s village, back to Sam, and every mile makes Dean more anxious. Castiel, despite the obvious power he has, is unable to help speed the journey along. Instead he remains in his snake form and lounges on Dean’s shoulders; as Dean walks, he notices other travelers eyeing him warily and giving him a wide berth.   
  
Not that he blamed them, but it’s still unsettling.   
  
Dean sleeps in his thin sleeping bag, the brush and trees hiding him from the road. He's generally cautious when traveling, and now even with a possible god accompanying him, he dares not light a fire or do anything to draw attention to himself. Gods willing, he just wants to get home and make sure Sam is okay.   
  
When he jerkS awake in the middle of the night, moonlight dimly cascading through the branches overhead, he at first doesn’t know what woke him. And then he abruptly realizes what it was.   
  
Castiel has shifted back to his human form, and now he’s pressed into Dean’s sleeping bag. Glowing blue eyes stares right into Dean’s soul, watched his every movement, and he smiles mischievously.   
  
He’s also completely naked. And hard.   
  
“Castiel!” Panic flares through Dean. This was not part of their deal, no matter how enticing Castiel’s vessel is. “What are you-?”   
  
Hungry lips seek his and Dean gasps and then moans into the kiss. They shif so that Castiel is on top of him, gently grinding down as Dean rapidly hardens in his pants. Kissing Castiel is like kissing lightning in a bottle, and he feels all but paralyzed by the intensity of it. It’s so so good but so damn dangerous.   
  
“Castiel-Cas! Stop!” He manages to push Castiel off of him, and the godling goes willingly. While Dean lies there panting, Castiel seems almost completely unaffected. Except for his eyes, blue orbs flickering and watching him without blinking. “Wh-what are you doing?”   
  
“I’m strengthening the bond. I’m barely tied to this plane right now, after years of being imprisoned. If you want me to save your brother, I need to be stronger than what I am. If it’s magic that ails him, I won’t be able to keep up my end of the deal…”   
  
“Are you using Sam to trick me into this?”   
  
“No,” Castiel says innocently. “I’m using the truth to tempt you. If you’d rather take your chances with my power as is, that is of course your risk to take.”   
  
Dean worries his bottom lip between his teeth, sees Castiel greedily track the movement, and forces himself to stop.    
  
“What happens if you strengthen the bond? Will that mean I’m stuck with you once the deal’s over?”   
  
“Stuck with me?” Castiel looks offended. “Do you not like my presence?” A hand slips beneath Dean’s pants and idly strokes his cock. “Does this not pleasure you?” A second hand works its way underneath Dean to grab his ass and then shift him closer. Their cocks brush together, only the cotton of Dean’s pants keeping them apart. “Would you not like to see what ecstasy my powers can wring from your mortal body?”   
  
And then a finger, impossibly warm and wet, slips past the ring of muscle at Dean’s hole and thrusts greedily inside him.    
  
“Yes!” Dean gasps. “I want it,” he begs. “I want you.”   
  
“Good,” Castiel purrs, and his lips are on Dean’s.    
  
As Dean comes, he feels the pull in his gut, the imaginary thread connecting him and Castiel, grow stronger. And again that morning, when Castiel wakes him with Dean’s cock in his mouth. And again the next night, when he rides Dean to completion in a cave off the main trail. And several more times on the last leg of their trip, stopping their journey simply to get his hands and mouth on Dean in all sorts of obscene, filthy, wonderful ways.   
  
By the time they arrived in Lawrence, Castiel practically pulses with magical energy.    
  
And the bond connecting them felt made of iron. Dean knows without a doubt, it will not break once their deal is done. But does that mean he’s tied to Castiel, forced to follow the whirlwind of power as it goes across the land and does as it pleases? Or does it mean Castiel’s tied to  _ him _ , limited in destruction if Dean could somehow learn to control him?   
  
Time will tell.   
  
For now, though, Dean needs to make sure Sam was healed…

 

\- - - -   
  


The pitying looks Dean gets as he walks through Lawrence towards his home have him on edge. Something is wrong. He rushes to his family’s home and practically knocks down the door as he bursts inside.   
  
“He died a couple days ago,” Bobby says as Dean falls to his knees beside Sam. “Didn’t bury ‘im because I knew you’d need to see for yourself…”   
  
Dean’s throat is dry and he isn’t even sure his heart’s still beating. Sam is dead. He’d been too slow and now it’s too late.    
  
Castiel, in his snake form, is curled tightly around Dean’s arm and hidden from view. He nudges Dean with his nose; Dean can feel the forked tongue flicking out and Dean suppresses a shiver.   
  
“Bobby, can you uh… can you give me a minute?”   
  
His uncle leaves him with his brother’s body. As soon as they’re alone, Castiel slithers down his arm and curls around Sam’s chest.   
  
“You can still fix this, right?” Dean croaks. The snake gives him an unamused look, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Then he rests his head on Sam and just lays there.    
  
Dean thinks nothing’s happening—Castiel’s trying to make it look like he’s helping all while trying to get out of their deal—but then Sam’s eyes fly open and he takes in a loud, shuddering breath. Coughing and looking around wildly, Sam jerks to his feet.    
  
“Sam! You alright?”   
  
Sam’s got a wild, almost crazed look. He doesn’t answer right away, so Dean grabs him by both sides of the face and forces him to look Dean in the eye.    
  
“Sam! Talk to me!”   
  
Finally, Sam seems to recognize him. “Dean? Wh-what happened? I was… and now I’m… I don’t understand.”   
  
“You were sick,” Dean says as he helps Sam back into his bed. “It was real bad for a bit, but now you’re better. How you feeling?”    
  
“Tired? I don’t know how… I’ve been asleep the past few days, right? How can I still be tired…”   
  
“Hey, it happens. But otherwise, you’re fine…?”   
  
“Yeah, I think so.”   
  
“Good.” Dean sighs in relief. “You should get some rest, okay? I’ll make you some food, but you rest.”   
  
Sam lies down and almost immediately falls asleep. Dean watches the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, just to be sure it’s not some illusion.   
  
“You’ll need to leave.”   
  
He jumps when he hears Castiel’s voice and turns around to find the godling dressed in Dean’s own clothes. Admittedly, it’s a good look on him.   
  
“Huh?”   
  
“Your brother was dead and now he’s not. Mortals don’t take too kindly to magic like that. It’s ‘unnatural’ and they’ll seek to set things right.” 

 

_ They’ll try to kill Sam _ remains unsaid, but the implication is clear.   
  
“So what are you saying?”   
  
“That you should pack and say good-bye to the people you’ll miss most, then leave Lawrence with your brother and never come back.”   
  
“Yeah, probably a good idea.” Dean steals a glance at Sam—still sleeping peacefully—and turns back to Castiel. “Thanks, by the way.”   
  
“Thank  _ you _ , Dean.” Castiel’s smile is decidedly too snake-like for the human form he’s now wearing. “I’d been trapped in that temple for a long time. And now I’m free.”   
  
“Oh… So you’ll be off on your own now…?” It’s a question he’s been asking himself since Castiel set about ‘strengthening their bond.’ Dean’s not sure what he dreads more: Castiel leaving forever or sticking around. When Castiel licks his lips, Dean’s eyes track the movement and his brain helpfully reminds him of all the times those lips have been wrapped around his dick.    
  
Okay, so maybe he’d be fine if Castiel decides to stay around a bit longer.   
  
Castiel’s expression is decidedly predatory as he steps right into Dean’s space and puts a hand on his chest. “We’re still bound together, you and I.” Dean feels the pull between them flare up, drawing a moan out of him. “I go where you go.”   
  
“So you’re… you’re coming with me and Sam?”   
  
“Of course.”   
  
He can’t quite help it, Dean leans down and kisses Castiel. It’s not as demanding as their usual kisses. It won’t lead to sex, not right now when Dean has to get them packed, but it’s full of feeling. “Watch Sam while I get ready?”   
  
“Yes, Dean.”   
  
It doesn’t take long to get everything packed into a couple bags. Their family never had much, and Dean’s not particularly sentimental. He has his mother’s ring and his father’s gilded dagger, what more could he need?    
  
He wakes up Sam, briefly (and vaguely) introducing Castiel before handing Sam a bowl of soup and telling him they have to leave. He expects Sam to put up a fight—they’ve lived in Lawrence their whole life, barely even traveled more than fifty miles away—but he just shrugs and accepts it.   
  
It’s very not Sam-like, and Dean frowns, but doesn’t push.    
  
“Sam? How on Earth are you-?”    
  
Dean whips around to see Bobby standing at the door, looking wide-eyed at Sam and then narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Castiel.    
  
“Bobby… A word?”   
  
They step outside.    
  
“What did you do, boy?”   
  
“I made a deal.”   
  
“Well I hope you can handle that deal, because magic that strong… No offense, but you ain’t strong enough to control it.”   
  
Dean shrugs. “Sam’s worth the risk.”   
  
“Is he? Is he Sam, I mean?” Bobby takes in Dean’s look of confusion and rolls his eyes. “Your blue-eyed friend in there, you sure that what he brought back is really Sam? I’ve heard stories about people who come back from the other side, and they’re not the same. They… they got pieces missing.”   
  
“Some Sam is better than no Sam. I’ll deal with any missing pieces later. Right now I just gotta get us out of here before anyone figures out what happened.”   
  
Bobby snorts. “Yeah, not a bad idea. Wait ‘til dark though. I’ll try to find you a horse, okay?”   
  
“Thanks, Bobby.”   
  
Dean goes back inside and sits at the table with Castiel and Sam. They clearly haven’t spoken at all, just quietly eating their food, and when Dean joins them the silence continues. It’s fucking creepy.    
  
“So,” Dean says, because he can’t stand the quiet, “where should head to? Anywhere you ever wanted to visit?”   
  
“Not really,” Sam says. It’s a lie. Sam’s always wanted to travel, but he genuinely seems disinterested.    
  
“Great.” He turns to Castiel. “What about you?”   
  
The being tilts his head to the side as he considers. “I would like to go to Pontiac. I have… unfinished business there. I’m not quite strong enough to handle it quite yet… But the journey should be sufficient time for me to build up enough power.”   
  
Dean shudders, knowing full well how Castiel plans on getting that extra power, and it thrills him a little.    
  
“Alright… Pontiac it is.”

 

\- - - -

 

Bobby finds them a pathetic little pack mule that can barely support Sam’s weight, never mind the few bags of supplies they’ve got packed. Sam’s too weak to walk far, though, so Dean deals with carrying everything himself. Castiel’s of no use, turning into a snake and curling possessively around Dean’s arm.   
  
If he didn’t owe Castiel Sam’s life, he’d be a lot more upset about the whole arrangement.   
  
They set out as soon as dusk settles and continue east until sunrise. Dean sets up a pallet for Sam, who moves from sleeping on the mule to sleeping on the ground, and then Dean wanders off to find wood for a fire and to fetch water from a spring.   
  
No sooner are they out of sight from Sam, Castiel switches back to his human form.   
  
“Cas—” Dean doesn’t get a chance to say more, because then Castiel’s lips are on him, insistent and demanding and too delicious to resist. How many times will he give in to Castiel? How strong will he let their bond grow? Let this godling become? Will Castiel get so powerful that he can break Dean’s hold on him?   
  
Will Dean survive if that happens?   
  
These are the worries that disappear the moment Castiel wraps his hand around their cocks. If this is how he’s going to meet his end, well, Dean can think of far worse ways to go.   
  
\- - - -   
  
“What business do you have in Pontiac?” Dean asks. It takes him a couple days to work up the courage, but he has to know. Cas has taken every opportunity to wring an orgasm out of Dean, and Dean can feel their bond growing stronger. At this point, he’s surprised he can’t see the invisible rope connecting them.   
  
“Personal business,” Castiel says dismissively as he licks Dean’s come off his hand.   
  
“Right.” He should’ve known Cas wouldn’t share. He’s more than fine with sharing his body with Dean, but they rarely talk. It was foolish of him to think there was anything more to what they had than mutual convenience—   
  
“The people who bound me, they reside in Pontiac,” Castiel explains once he’s cleaned himself up. “I would very much like to repay them for the betrayal.”   
  
Dean’s cheeks heat up, both surprised and pleased that Cas actually answered him. “People? Just… regular people? They were able to do that?”   
  
“There is an old god who lives beneath Pontiac. They had his help. But yes, it was ‘regular people’ as you call them.”   
  
“… What are you going to do to them?” Dean dreads the answer. Wonders what he’s unwittingly agreed to be apart of.   
  
What he will continue to be apart of, because he knows he doesn’t have it in him to refuse Castiel.   
  
“I haven’t decided. But it won’t be pleasant. I don’t even know if they yet live, but if their descendants are still there, they will pay for their ancestor’s mistake.” Castiel takes Dean’s hand in his, watching as he links their fingers together and smiling. “You have lovely hands, Dean. And eyes. And legs. And cock. There’s really nothing about your form that displeases me.”   
  
“Uh… thanks?” He’s flattered. Of course he is; a god finds him pleasing, climbs into his pallet each night and brings him unspeakable pleasure. And yet…   
  
And yet he greedily wants more. Dean wants to be more than a means to an end, no matter how much Castiel might enjoy him in the meantime. He likes it that it’s the three of them traveling together.   
  
Which reminds him…   
  
“Is there something wrong with Sam?”   
  
Sam had been so tired the first few days after his resurrection, but then he’d regained some of former strength. Now that he’s on the mend, Bobby’s warning is more obvious: Sam isn’t his old self. There are flickers of it, but not as much as Dean would like to see.   
  
Castiel’s brow furrows in concern. “Is there? I thought he was looking better—”   
  
“No, he is. Thank you for that. I just meant… There seems to be… a piece of him missing. He’s not himself.”   
  
“Oh. I see.”   
  
They’re silent for a moment, long enough for Dean to catch the guilty look in Cas’ eyes. “Cas, if you know what’s wrong—”   
  
“I don’t  _ know _ , but I have… a reasonable guess. I may have been unable to coax all of his soul back into his body. That would mean pieces of him are left in the Underworld.”   
  
“Pieces of him—the  _ Underworld _ ? Is there any way we can get those pieces back?”   
  
“The only way would be to go into the Underworld and fetch them. If I wasn’t able to draw them out, there will be no other way.”   
  
Mortals can’t simply waltz into the Underworld and return. That would defeat the whole purpose. How on earth were they going to manage it?   
  
“I will help you,” Castiel assures him as he leans in close and places a tender kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I will help you save your brother’s soul, I promise you.”   
  
Dean’s touched. This is well beyond their original agreement. The fact that Cas would help with this, it’s huge. “Thanks, Cas—”   
  
“ _ After _ my business in Pontiac.”   
  
Dean laughs humorlessly. He should’ve known better.   
  
“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s get to Pontiac.”

 

\- - - -   
  


They arrive in Pontiac after almost a week of travel.    
  
Castiel’s grip around Dean’s arm tightens so much Dean worries circulation will get cut off. He scratches idly at the exposed skin of his forearm and hopes Cas will take a hint. The snake unfurls ever so slightly, but is still uncomfortably tight.   
  
Dean finds a small inn on the outskirts of town. He pays for a room and some food, then ushers Sam up the stairs. Sam is feeling better, at least physically, and has a healthy appetite. He eats and eats and Dean sends him off with some coins to get himself a real meal at a tavern.   
  
Once Sam is gone, Cas slithers away from Dean and makes his way to the center of the bed Dean’s claimed for himself. He doesn’t transform, just curls around himself neatly and rests. Cas warned him he’d do this, that he’d need to collect his strength in preparation for challenging the god who’d trapped him.   
  
Dean’s stomach twists uncomfortably when he thinks about that.   
  
_ It’s not my business… _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Except that I’m helping him. Whatever he does to the people who asked that god for help trapping him… That’s on me. _

 

_ Probably won’t even find the people who did it, just their great great grandchildren. People completely innocent, ignorant of the reason they have an angry godling after them—  _ _  
_   
He shuts down that line of thinking. He’s not sure what he could possibly do to stop Cas even if he tried. And if he wants Cas’ help getting the missing pieces of Sam’s soul back… Well, he’ll just have to keep playing nice for now.   
  
With no god to babysit or soulless brother to tend to, Dean decides to explore the city. Seems like a better idea than waiting around for Cas to wake up. He makes sure Cas is settled in, then heads out.   
  
He wanders the streets, trying to imagine what happened to Cas here. How long ago was it? How many centuries? Time beyond Dean’s comprehension, surely. He doesn’t know, and he suspects Castiel doesn’t either. It’s obvious the godling doesn’t understand time the way Dean does. As far as Cas is concerned, he’s been traveling with Dean for seconds, for months, forever.   
  
There are some interesting shops and stands in the marketplace, and Dean loses himself for a good hour just browsing. He’s about to head back to the inn when he catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye. Certainly he didn’t see correctly, but no, a second glance only serves to confirm what he’d thought.   
  
There’s a man tending one of the stands but fifty feet away. Both he and the stand are unremarkable in all ways but one. If Dean had not visited that ruined temple… If Sam hadn’t been ill… Well, even Dean wouldn’t have noticed that one minor oddity.   
  
The man looks exactly like Cas, only older. As a human, Castiel’s form is that of a boy who has not yet seen twenty years. This man has specks of gray in his beard and the blue of his eyes have lost some of their sheen. But other than his age, he looks in every way Cas’ double; the jawline and cheekbones, his nose and the shape of his eyes, even the distinct way Castiel carries himself.   
  
The similarities are too much to be explained away as coincidence. Not here, in the city Castiel claims he has unfinished business. Maybe a distant descendant? A great great great nephew or grandson? But no, it’s more than that. Dean himself bears little resemblance to his own father, never mind his grandfather. After generations, there’s no possible way to explain it   
  
This man could be Castiel’s father or brother or son, but he must be something to Castiel.   
  
On a whim, Dean approaches the man. He catches sight of Dean and smiles warmly.   
  
“Greetings, friend,” the man says. “I’m James, and my family runs this stand. Could we interest you in any of our wares?”   
  
Dean gives the hand crafted pottery no more than a cursory glance. He’s not here for that. “Do you know anyone by the name of Castiel?”   
  
There is no mistaking the recognition in James’ eyes. “Castiel? Yes, I— I knew Castiel.”   
  
Dean waits expectantly, but the man offers no more. “Who was he to you?” he prompts. “Why do you look just like him?”   
  
“Castiel was my brother,” James says reluctantly in a hushed tone. “My twin. We were inseparable until… Well, until we weren’t.” James looks lost in a memory he’d rather not have at all, but then he meets Dean’s eyes again. “You’ve seen him? You’ve seen Castiel?”   
  
“Yes.” Then, carefully he adds, “He’s here. In Pontiac.”   
  
Something shifts in James’ expression. He’s afraid, Dean realizes. If Dean’s not mistaken, he should be. “What could he possibly want here? After all these years, I’d hoped he’d forgotten…”   
  
“Hoped he was still trapped?”   
  
James flinches but doesn’t deny it.   
  
“He says he wants to challenge the god who trapped him and punish the people who helped him. Would you know anything about that?”   
  
“Unfortunately.” James runs a hand over his face. “Castiel was… he was different than the rest of us. The priests were training him in magic and healing. He was powerful… but not so powerful as to escape death. The snake that bit him, its poison twisted its way through him and left him in agony until his last breath. It was terrible, to watch my brother die and know I could do nothing.”   
  
“Castiel… he died?” That doesn’t make sense. Castiel is a god, or near enough to make no difference. Yet apparently he was mortal once, and not too long ago at that.   
  
James nods. “We prayed and made the necessary sacrifices, but it took his life all the same.”   
  
A terrible suspicion starts to grow in the back of Dean’s mind. “But he came back…”   
  
“We asked a god to bring him back, and he did. But Castiel wasn’t the same afterward. Sure, he knew all that Castiel knew—and more besides, especially in the dark arts—but he wasn’t my brother anymore, not truly. It was almost as if… as if…”   
  
And Dean knows. He knows all too well what James means. “There were pieces missing.”     
  
“Yes! As though the god who gave my brother back his life had forgotten pieces of his soul. Lost them along the way…”   
  
“So you had him bound?”   
  
His shoulder sag in guilt. “Yes,”James whispers. “He was too powerful and completely unchecked. All of the goodness I’d known in Castiel was gone. The longer he remained free, the more a threat he posed to those around him.” James’ eyes grow dark. “He killed our parents… I… I’ll never forget how easy it was for him… or how little he cared.”   
  
“Thank you for your help,” Dean says wholeheartedly. This is not good news, but it helps him better understand the godling he’s aligned himself with. He takes some gold and presses it into James’ hand. “Take your family, anyone whom Castiel might bear a grudge against, and leave. I will do my best to divert his attention, but if you’re still here… I don’t think he’ll be able to resist the temptation.”   
  
Dean takes his leave and heads back to the inn. Right back into the belly of the beast…

 

\- - - -   
  


Dean rushes back to the inn. He needs to buy James time to escape, and he can only do that if he knows where Castiel is. He bounds up the steps two at a time but stops short outside their room when he hears voices.   
  
Standing with his ear pressed to the door, Dean listens.   
  
“Do you love my brother?” Sam asks.   
  
“... I don’t know what love is.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”   
  
“Because I think he loves you.”   
  
“Oh.” Another pause. “Does it bother you that I can’t return his affections?”   
  
“It should, but no. Not a whole lot bothers me these days, though.”   
  
It kills him to hear the two people he cares most about talk about how unfeeling they both are, how they should love Dean better but can’t, and Dean barges inside to stop them. They stare at him. If they care that he might have been listening, they give no indication. He’ll fix them,  _ both _ of them, he swears it.   
  
But he has other matters to deal with first.   
  
“Sam, could you give me and Castiel some time alone? There are a few things I want to discuss with him.”   
  
Sam’s eyes flicker between the godling and his brother, but he shrugs and does as asked. He disappears from the room and closes the door securely behind him.   
  
“What would you like to discuss, Dean?”   
  
He briefly considers begging Castiel to leave James alone, but he’s not sure that will work. It might only serve to anger him and bring his wrath upon his twin that much sooner. So instead of talking, he steps forward into Castiel’s space and kisses him roughly.   
  
Castiel gasps in surprise but surges forward to eagerly meet him. Dean rarely initiates anything between them, and Castiel seems to relish the change. Dean has Cas on his back in no time, spread out and pliant. For a number of reasons, Dean takes his time: to buy James more time, to distract himself from what they’re about to do, and to enjoy what might very well be his last time with Castiel.   
  
Even after, when Dean wants nothing more than to hold Cas close and ignore the rest of the world, the godling indulges him. His fingers brush through Dean’s hair and every now and then he places a kiss to Dean’s temple. In that moment, it’s so easy to pretend...   
  
~ ~ ~   
  
In the dead of night, Castiel leads them out of the inn. He doesn’t demand that they accompany him, but Dean can see the silent request when Cas looks at him. Dean nods and follows; Sam comes along out of sheer boredom.   
  
They wind through the city streets until they arrive at a small cottage at the outskirts of town. It appears abandoned—no lights or fire, no animals to be tended, and even the door sits ajar—but Castiel leads them inside anyway. Dean holds his breath, hoping against hope that James is long gone.   
  
He doesn’t dare pray, though. He’s wary of who might be listening.     
  
“They’re not here,” Castiel hisses. His eyes narrow to snake-like slits and anger flashes.   
  
“Hey, that’s okay.” Dean hazards to put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. The godling leans into the touch. “You said you didn’t care about the humans who wronged you, not as much as about the god who bound you. They’re gone, so let them be. Focus what power you have on him.”   
  
“Yes,” he agrees. He turns his head to kiss Dean’s palm and Dean’s heart flutters.   
  
Something about Pontiac makes Cas more tender. More human. Dean looks to Sam, who’s poking through the cupboards with a mix of curious disinterest. Apparently Pontiac does nothing to help Sam.   
  
His attention is drawn back to Castiel when the godling grabs Dean’s hand and drags him out of the house. “This way.”   
  
~ ~ ~   
  
Hand in hand, they approach a cave leading under the town. Sam trails behind. There are symbols etched all around the opening, but none that Dean understands or even recognizes. As they disappear below ground, Dean notices that the way is still lit. He looks up and sees holes in the cave’s roof, letting in faint moonlight.   
  
“This… this  _ god _ —” Castiel practically snarls the word. “—draws his power from the sun.”   
  
Dean takes another look at the holes. “Okay, but why be under ground at all then? Wouldn’t he be more powerful above?”   
  
“He has taken to hiding, as penance for all the wrongs he’s done and to prevent further ones. It did not stop him from so unjustly binding me and a dozen others before. Me, his sister, his own son… When he sees someone he fears, he casts us aside like we are nothing.”   
  
His grip on Dean’s hand is like a vice, and Dean wiggles his fingers. Castiel doesn’t loosen his hold.   
  
“I will make him pay. I will tear him to pieces so small, no mortal can even see them. Then I will scatter them over the earth like ashes. He will feel every moment of it, yearn for his lesser parts to rejoin and instead writhe in agony because they cannot.”   
  
There have been many times when Dean has feared Castiel and his power, but he’s never been so outright terrified of him before. The air sizzles with energy, and Dean has no doubt Castiel means all that he says.   
  
“That…” Dean swallows hard. “That sounds like it would take a lot of power. Are you sure you want to do that?”   
  
Castiel comes to a stop and whirls on Dean. “It almost sounds as if you are taking his side over mine—”   
  
“I have no love for this god, I promise you.” He gives a reassuring smile. “But I care about  _ you _ . I don’t want to see you waste your power needlessly. Is there… is there nothing else you could do instead? Something that wouldn’t drain or harm you?”   
  
_ Something that can yet be undone if need be? _ _  
_   
A cloud passes overhead and the cave goes dark. Dean’s eyes roam over the blackness he knows holds Castiel. There’s a faint blue where his eyes should be, and goosebumps rise along his arm as he stares into them. The cloud leaves, the moonlight returns, and Castiel’s face reappears. His earlier fury is gone, and instead there’s careful consideration.   
  
“I believe you might be right. I have another idea…”   
  
Dean shudders and follows Cas deeper into the cave. He very much hopes he’s made the right decision. He very much hopes he can yet save Sam and Cas.   
  
He hopes, but he does not pray.

 

\- - - -   
  


Dean motions for Sam to turn around and wait by the entrance. Only a month ago, Sam would have never obeyed such an order, yet he goes without complaint. His apathy worries Dean to his core, but until Castiel finishes his business with Pontiac’s god, there’s nothing for it.   
  
At the end of the cave is a small cavern. There are more holes here, and it’s decently lit. Dean can make out a form sitting on the ground. It doesn’t move or speak or so much as breathe, and Dean wonders if it’s even alive. It has the look of a man, but no man could be so still.   
  
_ We’re not looking for a man, though, are we? _ _  
_   
“Charles,” Castiel hisses. He lets go of Dean’s hand to clench his own into fists. They cackle with power.   
  
A breeze stirs the man’s clothes, but he remains unmoving.   
  
“Do you remember me?”   
  
The man finally stirs, sitting straighter as though life’s been blown into him. “I remember you, Castiel. Though I thought you were in Redford.”   
  
“In that forsaken place where you bound me?” Castiel takes a few steps forward. He raises his hands, glowing more brightly the closer he is to the other god. “Do you deny your hand in my imprisonment?”   
  
The god sighs faintly, a quiet sound that still resonates off the stone walls, and stands up. “I don’t. You were dangerous, Castiel. Overcome with power and warped by your death… The witch who brought you back, she did her best, but she left you incomplete. Your brother begged me to set you right—”   
  
Lightning strikes at the god’s feet. He doesn’t back away, but he flinches slightly. “Castiel—”   
  
“Do not dare speak of my brother!” The ground rumbles with each word. Fissures dance along the walls of the cave, and Dean shifts closer to Cas. If anything should happen, the godling is his own hope. Thank god he had the foresight to leave Sam outside the cave.   
  
Dean wonders if Castiel’s anger is solely for the god before him, or if he still would strike at James if given the chance. If the fates are generous, Dean will never have to find out.   
  
The god raises his hands to appease Castiel. “You were dangerous. It is beyond my powers to give you back what you lost in the Underworld, so James asked that I make it so that you could not hurt anyone else. He would not have you killed, so I had no choice but to bind you. So I did. Bound you so tightly you’d be stuck in that spot for the rest of your life.”   
  
He finally looks past Castiel to Dean and smiles sadly; having the god’s attention makes Dean profoundly uneasy, but he forces himself not to look away.   
  
“It seems you found a way around that, though.”   
  
“You should know by now, Charles… I am not to be underestimated.”   
  
Dean faintly sees the god’s eyes grow wide in fear before the cave grows too bright for Dean to see at all. He cowers behind his hands, hoping to shield himself from whatever magic and destruction Castiel plans to unleash. His world explodes in light and sound and pain, and then there’s nothing at all.   
  
\- - - -   
  
It’s a day later when Dean finds out what happened beneath the streets of Pontiac. Castiel used the considerable amount of power he’d gained through Dean’s help and he bound Charles to his cave. And then, because he didn’t want Charles to find a way out as he himself had, he made the cave collapse. There was now nothing but a heap of rubble where the god’s home had been.   
  
It’s still there.  _ He’s _ still there, trapped beneath the stone…   
  
Dean isn’t sure if it’s better or worse than what Castiel originally had planned for the god, but he hopes it can at least be undone if need be.   
  
If Dean ever needs help binding Castiel, he knows where to seek help.   
  
Before the cave in could trap them as well, Castiel had gotten Dean to safety. Dean had been hit by a falling rock, as Castiel sheepishly explains when Dean mentions the brief feeling of pain he’d felt, but he’s better now. Given how slight ache he feels when his fingers gingerly prod his scalp, Dean’s not sure he believes that.   
  
Castiel himself is weak. He moves lethargically and his words slur a little. Every bit of power Castiel had, he’d wasted on that god, and now he’s paying for it. Dean sighs and worries about his own recovery. He eats and he rests and all the same, he can’t help himself from casting worried glances at the godling.   
  
That night, when the godling slithers into Dean’s bed and winds around his arm, Dean kisses his head and pets along his scales. “It’ll be okay, Cas. I’ll take care of you.”   
  
The snake bumps its nose against his shoulder in reply.   
  
Dean falls asleep and dreams of blue eyes and a blinding smile, of affection returned and kisses shared out of love instead of the vice like bond tying them together. Of Sam laughing and joking the way he once did. A homestead on a lake, where he, Sam, and Bobby can raise cattle. A bed that he shares with Castiel and many kisses, sweet as honey.   
  
He dreams of his life the way he wishes it to be instead of the way it is.   
  
Someday, maybe, he’ll have all that. But not today.

 

\- - - -   
  


Dean drifts in and out of consciousness. All he knows is that both he and Cas need time to recover, him from his injury and Cas from his show of power. One or twice he wakes up long enough to find Cas in his human form, tucked under Dean’s chin and holding Dean tightly. Dean thinks he might just be dreaming, though.   
  
Sam takes care of them both. Dean knows this, as much as he knows anything else, and his head hurts too much to fight it. In the moments when he regains consciousness, Sam blandly feeds him and tells him what’s been happening in Pontiac. He tells Dean about the cave in and how the whole town is concerned, even though they wisely decide not to try and clean up the rubble.   
  
Dean’s glad. He doesn’t think he could stop Cas from attacking them once his strength is back.   
  
If it comes back.   
  
It’ll come back.   
  
Three days later, Dean wakes up to find Cas watching him in the morning light. They’re alone in their little room at the inn, and even though Dean’s able to think clearly for once, he gets caught in Cas’ gaze. Cas’ expression is unreadable, but Dean tries his best to figure out what Cas is thinking.   
  
Despite his very human form, Cas’ unblinking stare is decidedly snake-like. Dean knows so much about the godling sharing his bed, too much to mistake him for human, but he thinks it’d be impossible to look into those blue eyes and see anything mortal in them.   
  
Startled, Dean realizes he might love Cas. Flawed, dangerous, inhuman Castiel might very well be the love of Dean’s life.   
  
And he regrets nothing about that.   
  
When Cas finally leans in and kisses him, slow and tender, Dean sighs and melts into it. He lets Cas gently slide a hand into his pants and stroke him to full hardness. He’s completely pliant when Cas settles Dean onto his back and wiggles between Dean’s knees. He groans quietly when Cas takes him into his mouth, a finger circling his hole and providing light pressure.   
  
He comes down Cas’ throat, gasping and writhing and begging for more.   
  
“I believe I promised to help you recover your brother’s soul,” Cas says as he cleans them up afterward.   
  
Dean blinks. He’d hoped for a moment or two of peace, of soft embraces and half whispered endearments, before they shifted back to business. Apparently that’s still more than Castiel can give him. Cas only stayed close the past few days so he could keep using Dean. Great.   
  
Might as well take advantage of what Cas is offering.   
  
He pushes up onto his elbows so he can watch Cas more carefully. “You did,” he agrees.   
  
“We need to go east to Ilchester. There’s a path to the Underworld there. A weak spot, one that’ll allow a mortal to pass through.”   
  
“Good. So we go in, find Sam’s missing pieces, get back out—”   
  
“It’s more complicated than that.”   
  
It always is.   
  
Dean sighs. “What’s more complicated about it?”   
  
Castiel tilts his head to the side and considers Dean carefully. “I think I should be discussing this with Sam.”   
  
Of all the things Castiel’s said and done to Dean in their short acquaintance, this pushes too far. He has given Castiel everything, and even as Cas tries to return the favor, he denies Dean the simple acknowledgement that they’re in this together. Everything’s two steps forward, one step back with Cas.   
  
If Dean had any sense, he’d stop expecting so much from Cas. He’d realize this is a mutually beneficial partnership and nothing more. He would stop letting his feelings get in the way.   
  
… If only Dean knew how to do that.   
  
It’s too late, he realizes sadly. He’s invested. He’s in love.   
  
“What? There things you can say to Sam you can’t say to me?” His voice is harsh, betraying every bit how hurt he feels.   
  
There’s a long, drawn out pause before Castiel decides to answer. “No. But your brother needs to know this more than you do. I don’t want to repeat myself.”   
  
Dean pushes off the bed and throws on the first shirt he can find. It might not even be his, but he couldn’t care less right now. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”   
  
All Cas does is stare at him. He makes no protest as Dean storms out. Dean heads out to the nearest tavern to quell his anger with cheap mead.   
  
\- - - -   
  
The trip to Ilchester doesn’t take as long as the one to Pontiac. Sam is well, and they cover nearly twice as much ground each day. They stop only to eat, sleep, and in the case of Dean and Castiel, fuck.   
  
Dean tried to resist, tried to take out his frustration by keeping to himself. Cas had let him, and it’d hurt more than anything else. In the end, Dean decides he wants Cas to want him. If the only way Castiel is capable of desiring another being’s companionship is through sex, then that’s what Dean will offer.   
  
When they arrive at Ilchester, a barren little village boasting less than a hundred people and not even an inn, Castiel leads them to an oak tree within sight of the village. It’s old and overgrown, branches twisting and turning menacingly towards the ground. Nothing grows around it, not grass nor flowers nor a solitary weed. The back of the trunk has a hole, one that appears to go far deeper than it should.   
  
“This is the way to the Underworld,” Cas whispers, as if the King of Hell himself could hear them this close. For all Dean knows, he can.   
  
Sam is to go alone. Only mortals who have been to the Underworld before can pass without notice. Should Dean step a foot inside, all the eyes of the undead would turn towards him and know he didn’t belong. Sam, by grace of having already died, would draw no more notice than any other spirit there.   
  
And only mortals can pass into the realm of the dead. The wardings along the outside bar Cas’ entrance; they’d keep anything stronger than a man out, and Castiel is far stronger than that. Even if he still had all the power he’d used against Charles, Castiel was no match for the entire host of the Underworld’s army.   
  
Though Dean desperately wants to accompany his brother, if not to protect him than at least to provide support, there’s little to be done. If Sam wanted to be himself again, he must find a way on his own.   
  
Cas whispers advice to Sam, instructions on how to pass safely and where to find the missing shards of his soul. Dean gives them ample space; Cas has made it perfectly clear how useless Dean is in this endeavor, and he refuses to show how frustrating that is.   
  
Sam ducks down and disappears into the darkness. Dean holds his breath until he truly cannot see or hear him anymore, and then he lets out a shaky huff of air. It’s out of his hands now. All he can do is wait...

\- - - -

Dean sits there, keeping watch on the tree and hoping Sam will come back. Sam has to come back. Dean’s already wasted all his luck getting them this far; if something else happens, if something happens in the Underworld of all places, there’s nowhere left for Dean to turn…   
  
Surely there are no gods left who would listen to Dean’s prayers.   
  
“There’s no need to worry, Dean.” Cas stands nearby, all but hidden by the shadows. Not that Cas could possibly hide. Even if Dean couldn’t see him, he would always be able to feel Cas’ gaze. “So long as your brother does I instructed, he’ll be fine. He seems perfectly capable of following simple directions.”   
  
It’s not comforting. Not at all.   
  
For a long time, they stay there unmoving. Each rustle of leaves or the distant sound of people passing by has Dean more on edge. All he wants is to dive into the tree behind Sam, find his little brother, and drag him out safe and sound. If only it’d been him who’d taken ill and died…   
  
That line of thinking is dangerous, and Dean cuts it off.   
  
“Would you really have hurt James and his family?” Dean asks when the silence becomes too oppressive. He turns to watch Cas’ reaction, as if the godling’s inexpressive face would ever give anything away.   
  
“I don’t know.” Cas’ eyes narrow at Dean. “What do you know of James?”   
  
He takes a step towards Dean, and Dean instinctively leans away from him. He doesn’t fear Castiel, not exactly, but he’s wary. The godling has proven he’s not to be trifled with. An actual god was no match for him; what chance does Dean stand?   
  
Maybe our bond will protect me…   
  
His mind plays back Castiel’s confrontation with Charles. In vivid detail, he remembers the dark look in Castiel’s eyes. “I am not to be underestimated…”   
  
If Cas has it in his head to do Dean harm, Dean’s sure there’s very little that will save him.   
  
“I met him,” Dean admits. “In Pontiac.”   
  
“You warned him about me.” There’s no inflection in Castiel’s voice, no trace of anger or annoyance or even surprise.   
  
“I did.”   
  
They stay locked in a staring match until Castiel blinks and turns away. “That was probably for the best. I could not have defeated Charles had I wasted my energy punishing him for his betrayal.”   
  
“Right.” Surely it wouldn’t be because you care about your brother. That would be asking too much. “You going to leave him alone now?”   
  
Castiel shrugs. “What’s done is done. There’s no point in pursuing him. There’s nothing more he could do to me.”   
  
“But if you happened upon him…?” Dean really shouldn’t push the matter, but he needs to hear it. He has to know if there’s anything human left in him at all in Cas, if he at all has the capacity to care for others beyond how they serve his needs.   
  
If Dean’s wasting his efforts.   
  
“I don’t know.”   
  
“You don’t know? You don’t even know if you’d kill your own brother if you saw him this very moment? How could you not know that?”   
  
Cas’ eyes narrow. He tilts his head in curiosity. “What is it to you how I manage my brother or anyone else?”   
  
“What is it to me?” Dean jumps to his feet. It takes all of his willpower to stay rooted where he is and not charge the godling where he stands. “It’s everything! You use me to gain power, to enact your petty revenge, and you wonder why I would want to know? I care about you, Cas, but that does not mean I can let you murder the world on a whim. I have to know if there’s anything, anyone you hold dear.”   
  
There’s a silent plea beneath everything he says. All he wants is for Castiel to acknowledge what they share. A simple word, an assurance that Dean is more to him than a means to an end. Dean craves so much more than that, but he truly would settle for something as small as that.   
  
Castiel hesitates. He remains there, frozen and unblinking. The longer he’s quiet, the more Dean’s stomach churns with dread. Clearly the godling has no idea what Dean’s true concerns are, and he’s struggling to figure it out.   
  
That’s answer enough.   
  
“Forget it.” He sniffles and wipes futily at the tears in his eyes.   
  
“Dean…”   
  
“It’s okay. I get it. Us mortals are nothing to you. We are less than nothing, because we bleed and break and die and you…” Dean laughs bitterly. “You’ll just keep on going, long after we’re dust. I’ll be nothing but a memory, if even that.”   
  
“Dean.” His tone is harsh, almost desperate, but when he reaches for Dean’s hand, Dean pulls away. “We are bonded. You are not nothing to me—”   
  
“And if we weren’t bonded, huh? What then?”   
  
Again Castiel frowns. “But we are. I don’t understand.”   
  
“Obviously.”   
  
The wind shakes the branches above them. Dean’s heart beats loudly in his chest. And Castiel says nothing.   
  
“Look…” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and hopes he can fight off the impending migraine he feels brewing. He feels so damn tired. “When we’re done with this Sam thing, I think we should go our separate ways.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
It was like talking to a damn child.   
  
“Because we’re done. I wanted Sam back, you wanted Charles gone. We had a deal, and it’s about to reach an end. It’s best if we move on and forget we ever crossed paths.”   
  
“... What if we made another deal?”   
  
“There’s nothing more you or I want from each other. What possible deal could you offer me that I would accept? What could you even want from a mortal like me?”   
  
As frustrated as Dean is with this whole situation, he can see a similar annoyance brewing beneath the surface of Castiel’s stoic facade. The air cackles with unspent energy; Cas isn’t happy and can barely hide it. Their bond, that thread that’s always pulling them together even now as Dean wishes to drive them apart, is wound dangerously tight.   
  
“Dean—”   
  
“Dean!”   
  
They both jolt apart as Sam climbs out of the tree. He’s covered in ash and dirt, looks so exhausted and gaunt, but he smiles brightly as he stumbles forward.   
  
“Dean!” he says again just before he pulls his brother into a bone crushing hug. Dean awkwardly returns the embrace as best he can, unsure what to make of Sam’s sudden display of emotion after so long without.   
  
“Sammy? You alright?”   
  
When Sam steps back, though he keeps Dean close, Dean can see that he is. Whatever was missing is back; there’s genuine affection in his eyes as looks at Dean. This is clearly his little brother, the one he helped take his first steps and taught how to ride and risked everything to save.   
  
Sam is well and truly himself again.   
  
Thank the gods.   
  
You know exactly which god to thank.   
  
“I’m fine. I mean, I’m tired and sore and hungry and all that, but I feel like me for the first time in months.”   
  
He squeezes Dean’s shoulder and finally puts some space between them. Dean’s sorry for it, if only because he wishes to drink in the sight of Sam alive and healthy once more, but he’ll have plenty of time for that later.   
  
“Thanks, Castiel,” Sam say. Dean immediately tenses. He’d almost forgotten the godling was there. Or perhaps he’d hoped Cas would disappear as soon as Sam was back. “You were a lot of help.”   
  
“You have nothing to thank me for.” Whatever emotions he’d been on the precipice of feeling are now gone. He’s once more the callous immortal he usually is. “I promised your brother my assistance, so I gave it.”   
  
His blue eyes stare deep into Dean’s soul as he speaks. Dean’s glad Sam is there, or else he’s sure their argument would start anew.   
  
“Even so, thank you.”   
  
Castiel gives no answer. His indifference, feigned or not, makes Dean want to scream.   
  
“I’ve got something for you, if you want it.” Sam reaches for a length of twine wrapped around his neck and pulls at it. A small glass vial appears, filled with what appears to be nothing more than intense blue light. It flickers as it pulses within the glass.   
  
What in creation was it?   
  
“I found it while I was getting my own soul back. There were so many lost pieces, broken off from thousands of others. I didn’t recognize it until I’d fixed myself, but afterward I heard this calling to me.” He holds it in the palm of his hand, offering it to Castiel. Cas makes no move to take it.   
  
“It’s yours, isn’t it?” Sam asks, though now he seems unsure. His hand starts to lower. “Sorry, I thought it was—”   
  
“It is.” Castiel grabs it and stares down at it in awe. “I just didn’t realize it was missing.”   
  
“What is it?” Dean has an idea, a stupidly hopeful idea that will hurt him if it’s wrong.   
  
“My soul.” His voice catches on the last word.   
  
That horribly painful hope wells up inside him even more. He has to quash it, quickly, or it’ll consume him.   
  
“What are you going to do with it?”   
  
Destroy it. Hide it. Cast it aside. Use it in a spell. Give it back. Dean’s mind helpfully supplies as many worst case scenarios as he can think of.   
  
Castiel holds the glass at eye level and stares at the swirling light inside. Carefully, he uncorks the top. Dean waits with baited breath, terrified that this is it. This is the end of the boy named Castiel who lived and died and didn’t quite come back.   
  
The godling doesn’t snuff it out. Instead he dips his head back and swallows it. He glows faintly, then brighter and brighter until Sam and Dean need to shield their eyes lest they go blind. When it fades, Castiel’s a boneless heap on the ground. Dean can’t even tell if he’s breathing.   
  
“No!” he cries as he rushes over. He drops onto the dewy grass and pulls Cas into his arms. “Cas, are you okay? Cas? Wake up! Please!”   
  
He doesn’t.

\- - - -

“Twins are ill omens,” his mother whispers as she tucks the boys in. Castiel doesn’t even remember this, but there he is, a boy cuddled around his brother.   
  
“No they’re not,” his father answers firmly. “One child is a blessing, how can two not be twice as much of one?”   
  
“They’re ill favored by the gods.” His mother is adamant. She kisses each boy’s forehead. “Bad things have happened to the twins in my family. To one of them, anyway…”   
  
“Hael, that’s absurd—”   
  
“I know what I’ve seen. A sister claimed by the gods. An uncle. My grandmother… The gods give but one child at a time. The others is theirs to do with as they will. Mark my words, fate will take one of these boys from us in a terrible way.”   
  
Silence fills their small family home. Eventually his father sighs, shoulders slumped defeat, and he asks, “What would you have us do?”   
  
“Give one of them to the priests. If one becomes a priest for the gods, surely that will appease them.”   
  
“Which one?”   
  
His mother smooths back his hair. “Castiel. He’s the stronger of the two. If the gods have anything in store for him, he will make it through just fine.”   
  
\- - - -   
  
The priests are hard on him. They treat him as a servant, a boy who is there to clean and cook and tend the gardens. But then the gardens grow more than they should, over bountiful and with rare flowers blooming at strange times of year. They see magic in him, and they discard their plans to have him be but a slave to the gods.   
  
Instead the head priest trains him in magic. Ancient things long forgotten by man. Castiel dutifully takes to his studies, if for no reason than it’s better than the alternative. Some day he’ll be high priest himself, and that surely is more desireable a position than being owned by the temple and treated as property. No more cooking or cleaning or doing odd tasks for the priests.   
  
At least he still gets to tend the garden. He likes the garden.   
  
And at least the temple is close to home. They don’t like it, but the priests still let him make the mile trek to and back each day so that he can live with his family. His parents are uneasy of him when he shows them the magic he’s learned, but James delights in it. That alone keeps Castiel doing it. He loves his brother most of all, and it makes him happy when James smiles.   
  
When he is high priest, Castiel will earn a sizeable living. He plans to share it with James so that he doesn’t need to work the family stand if he does not wish to. It’s a child’s fantasy, truly; only the devout may live at the temple, and someday Castiel will need to move there permanently. Even so, it’s a dream all his own.   
  
\- - - -   
  
His beloved garden’s what kills him.   
  
The little snake, hiding amongst the weeds, might be the one who bites him, but it’s the garden that housed it.   
  
Castiel thinks it’s nothing. He’s a teenager by now, one who’s grown accustomed to power and thinks himself invulnerable. With a wave of a hand, he cleans the wound and ignores the snake. As far as he’s concerned, the whole matter’s done with.   
  
He grows sick on the way home that evening. He can’t force himself to eat dinner and James is the one who has to help him to his bed. James finds the mark on his arm, dark and angry and not at all the innocent wound Castiel thought it was.   
  
They call healers. And priests. They pray. None of it matters; Castiel can feel his strength disappearing. He won’t last another day.   
  
“It’s okay, James. We all die, sooner or later. I’m ready.” He clutches his twin’s hand. Even he can feel how weak and feeble his grasp is. “I’m ready,” he repeats.   
  
James covers Castiel’s hand with his own and blinks back tears. “But I’m not.”   
  
That’s the last thing Castiel remembers for the pain become unbearable. He writhes and screams and begs for death long before it reaches him.   
  
\- - - -   
  
There’s peace. He knows not where he is or even who he is, but he’s content. This, he thinks, might be a good way to pass an eternity.   
  
And then he’s ripped away from it.   
  
He awakens in a cave, blinking up at the god whose temple he’s so diligently tended for years now. They say nothing, but an understanding passes between them. Castiel knows exactly what has happened, and he’s in no way glad for it.   
  
“Why?” he asks bitterly. Death had been kind to him, in the end. He has no desire to be back.   
  
“Because they asked. And because you deserved a second chance.”   
  
“Then why let me die at all?” He thinks he might have been grateful, if he’d been spared the agony of his death and never known the rest the afterlife offered him.   
  
Before the god can even speak, Castiel knows he will get no satisfying answer. Instead he turns away and leaves.   
  
\- - - -   
  
He destroys the garden. Finds the snake that killed him and obliterates it, then tears each plant up by his roots. His magic is stronger now—he barely has to lift a finger—and it takes but seconds.   
  
It’s not as satisfying as he would wish it to be.     
  
\- - - -   
  
His parents and brother hug him tightly. They cry and thank the gods for returning him to them. Castiel is unmoved by their emotional display. He came back here out of habit, but now he wonders why he bothered. These people are nothing to him. They were once his whole world, and now they’re just… people.   
  
He finds he doesn’t care much for people.   
  
The temple tries to claim him. He allows it, only so that he can find their hidden books on magic. He ignores his other duties and reads them all, then destroys them one by one. This knowledge is too precious for the likes of the priests who hoard it. Like they have any rights to it at all.   
  
They try to stop him, and he kills them. A snap of his fingers and they explode into a million pieces. The blood and guts splatter his clothes, and he ignores it. Ignores it until he hears his mother’s screaming and his father’s desperate pleas. He barely remembers it, killing them. All he remembers is James’ terror stricken face afterward.   
  
He doesn’t kill his brother, but he’s unsure why.   
  
\- - - -   
  
The binding surprises him. Charles seemed uninterested in him and perhaps he’d overestimated his own power. He surely hadn’t expected James’ betrayal.   
  
The god traps him in that wretched temple, far from Pontiac. Binds his powers behind arcane markings and a ring of magic. Sadly, he tells Castiel that he is to remain here for the rest of his days, until his magic dries up or some other god takes mercy upon him.   
  
“Why don’t you just end me?” Castiel snarls. His magic presses angrily against his prison, but the invisible walls don’t yield. “Why bring me back just to trap me here? Why bother?”   
  
“I owe your family a great many things for the injustices done to them. It’s the least I can do. They asked me to bring you back, I brought you back. They asked me to bind you, I bound you. If they’d asked me to kill you, I might very well have done that instead, but your brother was quite clear. He wishes you to live.”   
  
Then the god vanishes, the candles flickering briefly in his wake, and Castiel has no answers. What injustices? Why does this god in particular claim patronage over them?   
  
How can he get out?   
  
The years pass and Castiel forgets more and more what it is to be human. All he has left is his anger and his revenge. And his magic.   
  
He practices behind the seals keeping him trapped. Learns a great many things, especially about the snake that bit him. The poison left faint traces behind, a type of natural magic all its own. He harnesses it, uses it to change his form into something different.   
  
It doesn’t help him escape, but it’s something.   
  
\- - - -   
  
Dean is a means to an end. He’s handsome and the energy he provides Castiel will help him. That’s all he is.   
  
It’s surprising how often he has to remind himself of that.   
  
Eventually he relents. Dean is his favorite, among all of humanity. Surely he can admit that much. There’s nothing more than that; Dean is exceptionally handsome and helpful, but if push comes to shove, Castiel will move on. Any sentiment he holds for Dean is a product of their shared bond.   
  
\- - - -   
  
Dean cries himself to sleep one night, and Castiel’s heart aches.   
  
He didn’t even know he had a heart.   
  
\- - - -   
  
There’s the barest trace of relief when he finds James gone. James should be punished, but Castiel still remembers when James meant the world to him. It wouldn’t have stayed his hand, but it’s enough to keep him from looking.   
  
\- - - -   
  
He will offer Dean whatever he asks. Any new deal he seeks to make, Castiel will make it. They’re stronger together, and he craves that. Craves it more than he can account for.   
  
\- - - -   
  
Castiel feels cold. Funny, he hasn’t felt much of anything these last few decades aside from anger.   
  
He gets to his feet and finds himself in the middle of a forest. The air is chill and the moon casts strange shadows on the ground. It is a haunting place, though Castiel experiences no twinge of fear, just idle curiosity. When he turns around, he startles slightly. He’s not alone in the clearing.   
  
“You have to choose, Castiel,” a creature with serpentine eyes and wearing Castiel’s face says. “You have your soul back. What will you do with it?”   
  
“You could put it back where it belongs,” says a boy so much like James it hurts. No, not James. The priestly garb is Castiel’s. The boy is him, before death and rage and magic consumed him. “You could be yourself again.”   
  
The idea is… unappealing.   
  
“Or,” says the other as he steps forward, “you could use it. Add it to the power you already have. Use it to break free of the bond you share with that mortal boy. You could be a god in truth, once you cast the others down and replace them. All would bow to you, love you, fear you. Think of what we could do with that kind of power.”   
  
That is a substantially more interesting possibility. When the creature offers Castiel his hand, he reaches forward to take it.   
  
“If you go down that path,” the boy warns, “there’s no going back. I offer you no power that you don’t already have. No accolades or temples in your honor.” He holds out his hand, small and warm. “All I can offer you is your heart. I can bring James back to you.”   
  
“James is the one who trapped me—”   
  
“And I can give you Dean.”   
  
Castiel hesitates. One offers him the world, and the other offers but one mortal. It should be an easy choice, yet still Castiel wavers back and forth.   
  
“Okay,” he says as he reaches to his left. “Take me back.”

\- - - -   
In some ways, it’s easier than when Sam was the one lying unconscious on a bed and on the brink of death. At least then, Dean had been able to busy himself with running from priest to priest begging for help.   
  
At least then he’d been able to pray.   
  
But Dean knows better than to dare such a thing now. After what happened with Charles, Dean’s sure there are no gods left who would spare Castiel their help. They might even try to kill him or bind him again. In his weakened state, there’d be nothing Castiel could do to stop them…   
  
So Dean sits there at the side of Castiel’s sickbed, holds his hand, and prays to the only one who truly matters. The only one with any power left to help the godling recover.   
  
He prays to Castiel.   
  
Please wake up.   
  
Please be okay.   
  
Please come back to me.   
  
I’m sorry, I take it all back. Every harsh word or empty threat. I won’t abandon you, no matter what comes of this.   
  
I’m already yours.   
  
Still, Castiel doesn’t wake. One, two, going on now five days and he’s as still as he was the moment he reclaimed the missing shards of his soul. He remains nearly lifeless on the bed where Dean and Sam put him, completely ignorant of the vigil Dean keeps.   
  
“We’re running out of money,” Sam says as he empties his pockets. “We have enough for maybe one more night at the inn, at least if we plan on eating.”   
  
Dean is eternally thankful that Sam is alive and himself. It’s truly a greater blessing than Dean can ever deserve. He will live the rest of his life thankful for it, especially now when Sam smiles with true affection or laughs at a joke or shows interest in anything beyond eating or sleeping. It should be enough to have Sam back.   
  
And yet all Dean can do is hope Castiel will open his eyes.   
  
“I don’t need to eat. Does that buy us more time?”   
  
“Dean—”   
  
“Does it?”   
  
“... Yes. But it makes the innkeeper nervous to not see you or Cas. You should go down and make an appearance, especially if I’ll only be buying one meal from here on out. Don’t want her thinking I’ve got you locked up here as a prisoner or something.”   
  
“I’m not leaving him.”   
  
“Dean.”   
  
He recognizes that tone all too well. “Fine,” Dean grunts. He has to practically pry his hand open and let go of Castiel. “Keep an eye on him. If he so much as stirs—”   
  
“I’ll send for you, I promise.”   
  
There’s no point in staying at the inn—every moment spent downstairs tempts Dean’s resolve to go without a meal—so he takes a walk around the village. It’s small but prosperous; Dean wonders idly if there’s a connection to the gate of Hell it houses, but he knows better than to ask the residents.   
  
Besides, he’s not fit for conversation with anyone right now. Sam certainly doesn’t appreciate his surly mood, and Dean’s not able to force any cheer right now.   
  
He wanders until dark, then makes his way back to the inn. Certainly by now he’s wasted enough time to satisfy Sam. Now he can go and take his rightful place at Castiel’s side. Before he can reach the door, it lurches open and a serving boy runs out. He nearly knocks over Dean, though he doesn’t even stop to apologize.   
  
“Ass,” Dean mutters under his breath before heading inside. It’s unkind of him, knowing full well the boy is probably on some errand, but it’s hard not to lash out with his thoughts racing chaotically.   
  
The smell of fresh stew has his stomach rumbling, so he rushes up the stairs to avoid its siren call. He’s so busy not thinking about food, that he neglects to notice anything else until he’s within earshot of their room.   
  
“I thought so,” he hears Sam say. He holds his breath and waits outside the door for more. “I remember—when my soul was missing—I remember having an idea of what love should feel like. A memory, or maybe a phantom limb. I knew I loved Dean, but I couldn’t quite feel it. Like the emotion behind that knowledge was gone, or maybe just muted. I tried to act in the right way to show I loved him, but it was halfhearted at best.”   
  
“Yes.” Dean’s breath catches in his throat when he hears Castiel’s voice. “Yes, it was very much as you say. I knew I loved my brother, but I couldn’t muster the right… the right way to express and nurture that love. It all fell flat.” A pause. “Or worse,” Castiel adds morosely. “I meant to kill him.”   
  
“But you didn’t,” is Sam’s gentle answer.   
  
“Only because Dean took it upon himself to prevent it. Your brother… I owe him much.”   
  
Is that… is that fondness he hears in Castiel’s voice?   
  
The hope is too much for him to ignore; he pushes into the room and casts his eyes to the bed. Castiel and Sam both startle slightly at the interruption, but don’t seem all that surprised.   
  
“Dean,” Sam says, standing up and offering the lone chair to Dean. “I just sent the serving boy to fetch you. Glad he found you—”   
  
“Sam.” His throat is dry, and he has to swallow and wet his lips before he speaks again. “Sam, I love you dearly, but I need you to leave.”   
  
Sam shares a look with Castiel, who nods slightly. Sam shrugs and leaves the room, squeezing Dean’s shoulder as he passes. The door clicks shut, and Dean and Castiel are alone.   
  
In the silence left behind, Dean doesn't know what to do. Of course he wants to speak and mend whatever he can between himself and Castiel, but he knows not where to begin.   
  
“Dean?”   
  
He looks up, only now realizing he’s been wringing his hands and staring at his feet. Now, though, he sees Castiel’s hopeful expression. It makes his heartbeat thunder in his ears; not once has he seen Cas appear so human.   
  
“Cas.” He takes a few steps forward and all but collapses on the edge of the bed. He wants to reach out and touch Castiel, confirm that he’s alive and well, but he holds back. “How do you feel?”   
  
At that Castiel winces. “Physically, I’m quite well. I feel more like myself—my true self—than I have in some time. Since I died, if not before. I dare say I have a lot to atone for since then… A great many things that I’ll have to undo.”   
  
Dean’s lightheaded. This must be a dream; because it sounds as though Castiel has a damn conscience, which is certainly well beyond anything Cas has ever hinted at before.   
  
“Like James?” he asks, because even if it’s impossible, he has to be sure.   
  
“Yes.” Cas smiles sadly. “And Charles, too.”   
  
“Oh. Good.”   
  
They sit there awkwardly for a moment. For the life of him, Dean can’t think of what to say next.   
  
“Sam tells me I worried you. I’m sorry for that, Dean.”   
  
“Cas, you don’t have to apologize—”   
  
“I do. I have quite a bit to apologize for, and worrying you is the least of it, so please let me.” He waits for Dean’s nod before he continues. “In truth, I owe you so much. Not simply for freeing me and helping me regain my power, but more importantly for helping me find myself again. I… I was lost. I don’t think I would’ve ever come back from the creature I was if not for you. If it weren’t for our bond and your love, I would still be lost.”   
  
“Cas.” This is more than Dean can bear to hear, unless it’s followed by more than thanks. “I’m glad I could help. And I’m glad you’re your old self again.” Whatever that means… “But where do we stand now? Do we go our separate ways? Do we make some new deal that keeps our paths crossed a little longer?” He stops short when he sees Castiel frown. “What?”   
  
“I should’ve thought it was terribly obvious, but I suppose I can’t blame you since I myself only realized it but a few moments ago. Dean, you have but to pick a direction and I’ll follow you. No deal or trade is necessary. I’m yours, so long as you’ll have me. I… I love you, Dean. I’ve done a poor job of showing that, but I swear to you, I will do better. It may take time, but I will become a good man again. For you. I—”   
  
Dean cuts him off by surging forward to kiss him. Not once did he expect to hear Cas say he loved him. Or if he did, Dean didn’t expect to believe it. But there was no denying the earnest way Castiel confessed it, as though it were the simplest but most true thing he could possibly say.   
  
“You love me?” he asks, lips brushing against Castiel’s.   
  
“Of course. I love you more than anything. More than my power or myself, certainly more than the being I was. I’d give it all up to be with you, if you’d let me.”   
  
Mirth fills him and Dean can’t help but laugh. “Let you? I all but begged for you to stay with me, and now you offer it freely.” He steals another kiss, then rests their foreheads together. “I never dreamed I’d hear you say such things…”   
  
“In my meager defense, the part of me that loved you was locked in the Underworld, though I promise to do my best to make up for my poor behavior.”   
  
“And I will hold you to that,” Dean says sternly. “A godling’s word is inviolable.”   
  
“I’m not a godling anymore. I’m not sure I ever was.”   
  
“Even so.”   
  
Castiel smiles, a wide, gummy thing that brightens Dean’s whole world. By the gods, he loves this man turned godling turned man again.   
  
“As you say, Dean.”

 

**Epilogue**

  * Dean gets his homestead on a lake. It’s a rundown cottage but with good land, if they’re willing to work it, and they do. Between Castiel’s gardening ability and his and Sam’s experience with cattle, they live well. Soon they feel settled enough to invite Bobby to live with them, and the old man comes gladly.
  * Though Sam and Castiel have their souls back and are whole again, they suffer for when they weren’t. Sam has nightmares and a near constant guilt plagues Castiel. Sam grows better over time, especially as Castiel teaches him how to box his unpleasant memories of the Underworld behind a wall in his head. Castiel on the other hand hates the things he did on earth and has no way around them.
  * Castiel and Dean talk about it a lot. Dean convinces Castiel to ignore everything he cannot undo or mend and focus instead on what he _can_ fix. 
  * James is first. They find him and his family—a wife and daughter, and his wife’s elderly grandmother—and help him establish them close by. The brother’s reunion is bittersweet; they have much to forgive in each other, but eventually their love wins out over their pain. It will take time for them to be as close as they once were, but they are on the way there.
  * The priests Castiel killed, and his parents, there’s nothing for it. He undid Sam’s death, but only because it was so fresh. Deaths so old… Instead he works to heal those around him. He visits local temples and offers to heal the sick. His power is not what it once was—he refuses to dip into the dark arts the way he did so freely before—but he can work small miracles. Returning people’s sight, undoing old injuries, mending broken bones… He is well loved and respected, and it helps him feel better to know he can still do good in the world.
  * Charles. Castiel refuses to talk about Charles for some time. Dean doesn’t push too hard, because he worries Castiel will lash out. Eventually Cas opens up and admits his fears. That he’s too weak to undo what he’s done. That if he does, Charles will be angry. That Charles will be more powerful than him, and Castiel will either lose himself again in an effort to defend himself, or that he’ll lose Dean and Sam and the life they’ve built because he’s simply unable to stop Charles. 
  * Instead, Dean endeavors to help Charles. He travels back to Pontiac on his own and helps remove the fallen rubble. He finds the bound god, locked away in a metal chest, and opens it. The god is indeed angry, but at himself more than at Dean or Castiel. He promises he means Castiel no further harm, but he demands that Castiel and his kin stay well away from Pontiac. Dean agrees.
  * Dean’s unsure whether to tell Castiel. He wants Castiel to _want_ to help Charles and to come to that decision on his own, but he doesn’t want to force things. He wavers back and forth for a few days, until Castiel admits that he wishes he could help Charles but is too afraid to do so. When Dean admits what he’s done, Cas is startled but relieved. The deed is done and with no ill done to them (though he is very angry that Dean put himself in danger at all).
  * Despite Charles’ instructions never to come to Pontiac, Castiel writes him a long letter. Pages upon pages that Dean doesn’t read but delivers. The god accepts them, reads them carefully, and chuckles. “Tell Castiel I forgive him.” Castiel cries when he gets the message.
  * All in all, they’re happy together. Their lives are so intertwined, not simply because of the bond they share (and all the deliciously filthy ways Castiel learns to use it), but because they _choose_ it. The same home, the same family, the same bed… They are partners in everything, and it makes them stronger. And happy. Oh so very happy.



**Author's Note:**

>  **Bonus Scene:**    
> The boy had been stationed at the inn for nearly a year. His work was simple enough; not many even _knew_ about the gateway to the Underworld, much less used it, so he rarely had anything to report. But then three men showed up, one of them unconscious but radiating power. So the boy kept an eye out. Watched as the tall man came and went. Noticed that the other two stayed behind for days on end...  
>  When the other man left, it was so odd that the boy _had_ to investigate. He crept up the stairs and listened with his ear pressed to the door. For a long while, he heard nothing but the occasional creak of floorboards. But then he heard voices.  
>  The voices sounded ordinary, but for one trained as he was, there was a cackling aura around one of them. The unconscious man, whoever he was, he was _powerful_. Could he be the one his mistress was looking for? All he needed was a name...  
>  Loud footsteps were his only warning that someone was approaching the door, and he jumped to hide behind a nearby coat rack. He held his breath and stayed still, watching as the man bounded downstairs. It was risky, but he _had_ to find out more. The rewards for bringing information to his mistress were high. And the punishment for failure...  
>  Collecting his nerves, he knocked on the door, left ajar in the tall man's haste, and looked inside. A man sat on the bed, dark hair a mess and blue eyes staring unseeingly at the fire.  
> "Excuse me?"  
> The man startled. "Yes?" he asked with a frown.  
> "Sorry to interrupt, but could I fetch you anything to eat or drink? We're serving stew and ale tonight."  
> He considered for a moment. "Three serving of each, if you wouldn't mind. My friends and I have much to celebrate."  
> "Of course." He bowed slightly. "Your name, sir? So I can tell the serving maid?"  
> "Castiel."  
> Castiel.  
> It _was_ him.  
>  Of all his mistresses' servants, she expected the least of him. He too thought nothing would come of his placement here. Why should a godling use a gate to the Underworld? What business could he have there? No, godlings dealt with the living and had no use for what was dead and gone. Yet here before him was the very person his mistress had been looking for.  
> "Are you alright?" the godling asked. His concern was evident, but easily ignored.  
> "Yes, sir! I'll tell them downstairs. The food'll be ready for you shortly."  
> It took great effort to keep himself from rushing out then and there, but he forced himself to remain calm and steady until he'd gotten past the tall man. Only once he was at the door did he start to run. In his haste, he nearly knocked over a man approaching the inn, someone vaguely familiar though he didn't stay long enough to check, and rushed off without apology. He had many miles to go.  
> It took nearly a day of travel, only stopping to catch his breath, for him to arrive at the lonely villa. The stone guardians at the gate did nothing to stop him as he entered; if he didn't _know_ they were more than they seemed, he'd have thought them merely statues. But he _did_ know, and he tried not to shudder as he walked by.  
>  Through the twists and turns of the villa, he made his way to his mistress' office. She was there, mixing potions and humming quietly to herself. He'd no sooner stepped into the room than she waved him closer.  
> "Come, child. Tell me what you've seen."  
> "Castiel is back. He's... he's free. He's traveling with two men. One of them went to the Underworld, though I know not which or for what purpose. He's been at the village inn for nearly a week, unconscious or ill, and only now recovered."  
> Naomi, if she felt anything at all upon hearing the news, showed nothing. She calmly finished her potion and wiped her hands clean, then sauntered over. Only when she turned his chin up and smilded down at him did he relax a little.  
> "Good job, Samandriel. You've done well. Now come. We have much to do..."  
> 


End file.
